


Five times Crowley helped out kids, and one time a kid helped him

by sourgummyworms



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Crusades, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Noah's Ark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourgummyworms/pseuds/sourgummyworms
Summary: We all know Crowley has a soft spot for kids- this fic explores how he grew to be so good with them and why he cares so much about them.1. Noah's Ark2. Nazareth3. Children's Crusade4. The Black Death5. Not the Antichrist6. The Antichrist





	1. Noah's Ark

**Author's Note:**

> I know the Crowley saving kids from the flood story has been done to death but it makes sense for this fic and I'm doing it chronologically so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Mesopotamia, 3004 BC  
“Are you going to say ‘ineffable’?” Crawley sighed.

“...possibly,”

“Oy! Shem!” Crawley shouted. “That unicorn’s going to make a run for it if… oh, too late. Well, you’ve still got one of them.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

The rain had started up, gentle at first but within a few minutes it had begun to drench the land like it would for days on end. The people grew weary as the ground became one big puddle. The ark was looking nicer every second.

Aziraphale and Crawley were still standing by the fence, the only people there now watching Noah and his family put the finishing touches on the ship. Aziraphale cut through the roaring downpour with a question. “What are you going to do until this is all over?”

Crawley looked around in thought. “Well, I was planning on staying here, but that’s out of the question. You said She wasn’t angry with the Chinese?”

Aziraphale replied with a shake of his head. “I’m supposed to get them settled,” he gestured to the ark, “then wait it out in Heaven,”

Crawley nodded, but said nothing. It seemed like the angel still had something to say.

“I haven’t been back in a long time,” he added.

“Since when?”

“Before the garden,” Aziraphale admitted. Crawley wondered if it had something to do with the sword, but didn’t say anything.

“Me neither. There's a lot more trouble to make up here than in Hell. ‘s a lot more room, too,” Crawley took another look at the ark and the angel, then turned to leave. “See you around, ang-”

“Scuse me, misters. Have you seen my sister?” A young boy tugged at Crawley and Aziraphale’s robes. The demon looked down at the child, soaking wet and shivering from the cold.

“I-” Crawley had very little experience with kids. He had only watched Cain and Abel from a distance, and stuck to tempting and inconveniencing adults. Crawley stole a glance at Aziraphale, who looked back with wide eyes filled with guilt. He sighed and waved to Aziraphale. “Go on, help out Noah. I’ll handle this.”

Aziraphale looked at him warily for a second, but quickly gave in, hurrying to the ark.

Crawley looked down at the boy, who looked back at him in return, neck craning to see his face. Crawley noticed this, and squatted down to be at his height. “Alright, what's your sister look like?”

~

After another hour and another six inches of rain, Crawley found himself with a child in each hand and a toddler on his hip. The boy who had first found him led him to a small hut- his parent’s house.

He knocked on the door, and was met with silence. He miracled the door open to find a man and woman huddled on a small cot above the flooded floor. “Get out! You’re letting more water in!” Shouted the woman.

“I have your children,” Crawley replied hesitantly.

The man huffed. “There is no more space in here- go somewhere else if you want to save yourselves.”

Crawley hesitantly left, leading the children from hut to hut, and being refused at every door. He realized She may have had a point with these people being bad- they were certainly selfish. But the children he was carrying over the rising water had done nothing wrong. They didn’t deserve this just because their parents may have.

Soon though, his theory that just the adults deserved to be drowned was proven wrong. A distressed woman carrying an infant caught his attention. When he came close enough, she saw his serpentine eyes. “You are not of this Earth,” She breathed. “You can save my child!” (At this point, seeing someone with snake eyes wasn’t very strange. Neither was seeing someone groom their wings, or talk to a beam of sunlight, for that matter.)

Crawley tried to object, but the wailing baby was pushed into his arms. “There are more children in that house,” She pointed to a building barely visible through the downpour.

Crawley found himself hurrying in the direction she had pointed. When he arrived, more relieved parents handed their kids of varying ages to him after they saw his eyes. They thanked him as he left. “You are doing God’s work,” One said.

He chuckled. “I’m doing a lot better than that.” When he turned to leave, he realized he didn’t actually have a plan. He knew the only safe place would be the ark, and so led the shivering kids he had collected towards the ship.

It took much longer to get there with the number of children he had to lead, and by the time he stood at the edge of the towering boat, the entire ground had become a shallow river of mud.

A ladder appeared for the children to climb up, and the people already on the boat found themselves tempted to go to the other side of the deck for a while. Crawley climbed up last and jumped when he saw Aziraphale standing by the huddled children, looking very confused.

“What are you doing?” He asked, more confused than accusatory.

“None of your bussinesss,” Crawley hissed.

“I think it might be, actually. What are you doing with all these children?” He asked again.

Crawley though for a moment. What was he doing? He certainly didn’t know. All he knew was that he couldn’t let them drown. “I’m… being demonic,” He mustered.

Aziraphale looked at Crawley. “This doesn’t seem very demonic.”

“No, but it is,” Crawley argued. “They were supposed to die in the flood, but I’m keeping them alive. To continue being evil.”

“Evil? Crawley, they’re only-” Aziraphale stopped, realizing Crawley’s argument. “Well, I guess you’ve beaten me, demon.”

Crawley blinked. “I have?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale looked at the children, who were also confused. “I would thwart your demonic activity, but I’ve been ordered to go back to Heaven.”

Crawley gave a shaky smile. “Oh, right. Should I... thank you?”

Aziraphale looked away. “Better not.”

Crawley was about to speak again when he was hit with a message from hell, doubling over in shock. Aziraphale noticed and hesitantly kneeled next to him. “Are you alright, dear boy?”

Crawley processed the question a moment later, blinking his eyes back into focus. “Yeah, sorry. Just got the message from Hell to report back,” he mumbled.

“I see,” Aziraphale looked at the group of kids, who were still watching Crawley. “I believe there is a spare stall on the next floor where a unicorn was supposed to go,” He pointed to a ladder, and helped the children down before turning back to Crawley. “Goodbye, Crawley.”

He disappeared in a beam of light, stinging Crawley’s eyes. He stood up and made his way down into the ship. After finding the children petting the one unicorn left, he snapped his fingers, drying their clothes. He took back the two infants he had been given from some of the older children who had been holding them. There was no light, but he could see in the dark that some children had eyes filled with tears.

“What’s going to happen to us?” One asked.

Crawley sighed. “If you stay hidden here, you’ll be safe. I don’t know when it will end, but it will. That’s all I know. Oh, and there'll be a rainbow.”

The children were silent. Crawley heard a stomach grumble, and miracled up some bread and milk that conveniently never ran out. When they all seemed settled, he gently placed the infants back in the oldest children's arms and stood up to leave.

“Thank you, Crawley.” The boy who had first come up to him called.

He didn’t reply, and disappeared back to Hell.

~

Years passed, and Crawley returned to Earth. Humans rebuilt surprisingly quickly, but he still stayed out of Mesopotamia for a few decades. He did return, though. He didn’t recognize any of the people there, but he didn’t usually try and remember faces. He kept the thoughts of the teary-eyed faces on the ark out of his mind with the help of the alcohol humans had been perfecting.

Sometimes he would notice people staring at him for a bit too long, or hear hushed whispers behind his back, but he chalked it up to people seeing his eyes. He might have to do something about that.

Crawley opened the door to his room at an inn one day to find a carefully wrapped package. He checked for holy energy, but it was completely normal. He opened it to find a jug of wine and a clay tablet. “I should have learned to read,” He sighed and tossed the tablet into his room, and uncorked the jug.

He made his way through the city, wondering what the tablet had said. He was so lost in thought that he bumped into someone. A pale, blond someone holding multiple clay tablets. They spilled on the ground and shattered into pieces.

“Oh dear! Those were important!” The angel worried. Crawley looked at him before snapping his fingers. The tablets were whole again and back in Aziraphale’s arms.

“Sorry,” He mumbled. “Hey, can you read those?”

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment. “Yes?”

Crawley raised his eyebrows at the angel’s tone of voice, but continued. “Can you read this for me?” The tablet he had been given appeared in his hand.

Aziraphale glared at him before turning his attention to the tablet. He turned it so it was facing the right direction. “A gift for our savior, Crawley. Thank you for giving us another chance. Crawley, what is this?”

A smile snaked its way onto his face. “They made it,” he whispered.

Aziraphale read it again and its meaning dawned on him. “The children on the ark… “

They looked at each other with pure joy. Crawley broke the gaze to look at the bottle he had been gifted. “They, uh, sent me this for helping them. You… didn’t not help them. Want some?”

Aziraphale continued to look at him, but worry had crept into his eyes. “I- no, I have a blessing to get to,” he explained. “Need to get to Bethlehem.”

“‘S’alright, angel. See you around?”

“Yes. I guess I will,” he nodded, and continued on his way.

Crawley watched him disappear in the crowd, then looked back at the tablet. He traced the markings on the clay and continued down the city street in search of a reading tutor.


	2. Nazareth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley becomes a midwife of all things, which leads her to meet a young carpenter (guess who).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short disclaimer: I am by no means an expert on the bible- i was raised catholic so the things jesus (called Yeshua bc thats more historically accurate) does is based on what i learned in sunday school and a few wiki articles. The story is really more about Crowley and their reactions to Yeshua's choices.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Crawley needed a cover. It was becoming, to his frustration, less acceptable to openly be a demon. At first, he could just ignore the fearful glances and whispers, but when those whispers turned to shouting and attempts to discorporate him, he decided he needed to blend in better.

Hiding his demonic features was easy enough. Wearing long robes already covered the scales that freckled his body, and remembering to cloak his eyes with a minor miracle wasn’t too hard. The one thing that was proving to be a problem was a cover story. Apparently, sauntering aimlessly around Nazareth was suspicious to humans. 

So Crawley found himself looking for a side-job between temptations in the city he was stationed in (He didn’t know why he was here, though. Beelzebub’s orders had been to simply stay there and be Evil). He tried being a shepherd- too boring. A carpenter- they already had an apprentice. Even a fisherman- he got seasick.

As the weeks went by without a cover, the more nosy humans were becoming suspicious. To stay off their radar, Crawley made a few changes. She told Hell it was to stay inconspicuous, but really she had been thinking of changing her name to Crowley for a while, and had wanted to try out another facet of humanity, too.

After a long day of demonic activity (making some milk go sour and stealing one (1) chicken) and some drinking, Crowley walked down the quiet night streets. The quiet was nice until it was broken by shrieking, coming from one of the only lit houses on the road. Crowley sighed. Shrieking usually meant torture, which had been a favorite of Hastur and Ligur’s for the last decade. She should probably see what they were up to. Crowley inched the door open to find two women, one huddled over the other- who was still yelling. At the noise of the creaky door, the women turned to see Crowley who quickly remembered to shield her eyes to look normal.

“Sorry- didn’t mean to interrupt-” She began to pull the door closed again, but the woman not yelling stuck a hand out. She was older, her hair graying, but had a piercing stare when she turned to look at Crowley.

“No, we could use your help. We need water,” The woman implored.

“I- uh, ngk,” Crowley began.

“Quickly! She’s about to give birth!” The woman shouted. Crowley blinked, and pulled a jug of water from behind her back, handing it to the woman. She didn’t know much about childbirth and had never stuck around any one person to even know the first thing about human biology. So, she stood awkwardly to the side and watched the older woman run around from one task to another while the other moaned on the floor in pain.

The older woman, a midwife, Crowley guessed, turned to the demon. “Are you going to help or not?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Crowley mumbled. The midwife sighed in exasperation.

“Why don’t you just keep her calm,” She pulled a reluctant Crowley forward. “Sit her up, hold her hand, tell her to breathe,” She explained.

Crowley did just that, and although she had no idea what she was doing, the woman seemed comforted by it. She felt a pang in her chest when she remembered what had caused this young woman to be in such pain in the first place, but shook it off to focus on what was happening. Crowley watched the midwife work diligently. She went through the motions and seemed to know what would happen before it did. If she needed something else, it would miraculously be found by Crowley with a discreet snap of her fingers. Within a few minutes that felt like hours, the midwife pulled a baby boy into her arms. Crowley could only stare in awe at the baby while the midwife cleaned up and the new mother rested.

“You’re good luck,” said the midwife. “That’s rare in my work.”

Crowley didn’t know what to say. First of all, she had never been called lucky before. Second, despite the stressful and admittedly gross scene, she had felt important in a way Hell had never made her feel. Like Aziraphale had made her feel when she saved those kids on the ark- she thought of the children on the ark.

“I’ve been looking for a job. Do- do you need an assistant?” Crowley asked quietly.

The midwife looked her over, a smirk growing on her face. “I was considering it. You’d have a lot to learn.”

“I can handle it,” Crowley assured.

~

Crowley found herself running around the city from one home to another, learning to be a midwife. She fit in minor inconveniences and temptations when she could, but it took a backseat to her new and much more demanding job.

Despite the hard work, she was good. Not a single mother or child died when she was present. The midwife she apprenticed for certainly noticed this, but wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Even one that occasionally had yellow slitted eyes when she forgot herself.

One afternoon, she was sent to order a cradle to be built. The weather was perfect, as usual. She went to the nearby carpenter’s shop to find a young boy teetering on the edge of a ladder, trying to reach a tool. The ladder wobbled, then slipped from underneath him. 

From the height he was at, he could’ve been seriously injured. In those days, that just meant a slow death. Crowley didn’t even have to think before she snapped her fingers. With that, the ladder quickly straightened itself out again, and the boy was holding onto it instead of halfway to the ground. The boy shouldn’t have noticed anything, but he whipped his head around to stare at Crowley.

“Did you do that?” he asked.

“Er, do what?” she bluffed. The boy looked at her quizzically as he climbed down the ladder.

“You did, didn’t you? And why do your eyes look like that?”

Crowley’s jaw dropped. She had remembered to make her eyes human- how could this boy notice? She tried to change the subject. “What’s your name? Where’s your father?”

“Yeshua,” replied the boy. Crowley didn’t even hear the rest of what he said. She knew that name, and she now knew why she was stationed in Nazareth. The last time she had heard that name was twelve years ago when Aziraphale had whispered it to her after one too many drinks. Technically, he might not be the Son of God, just some kid with the same name, but he had sensed her saving the ladder. He could see her eyes.

“What’s your name?” asked Yeshua.

“Crowley.”

“Well, thanks for saving me, Crowley. Could you help me get that hammer, too?”

Crowley looked to where he was pointing. “I dunno if I can reach that, either.”

“But you can still get it,” Yeshua looked at Crowley. She sighed, and snapped the hammer into her hands, then handed it to him. There wasn’t any point in pretending anymore. “Thanks!”

Crowley watched as the boy returned to his work. She was probably supposed to thwart this kid, stop him from... What? What was he doing that required Hell to stop him? He was just a kid- when he grew up he would probably become a threat to Crowley.

But if that were true, then the most logical thing for Crowley to do would be to stop him while she still could. She’d definitely get a commendation for that. The Son of God was here, he was vulnerable, and he wasn’t currently running from the demon in front of him.

The Christ looked up from what he was doing to look at Crowley. “Did you need something?”

“Er, a cradle. The woman down the street just had a baby,” Crowley shuffled her feet. Yeshua nodded and went back to his work. 

“Alright. It’ll be ready in a week. Nice meeting you, Crowley. I’ll see you around, I think.”

Crowley opened her mouth to argue, but the way he had told her seemed to mean he knew he would see her. No argument required. So she simply nodded and left.

~

He was right, of course. 

He would wave to her when he saw her in passing. If she wasn’t busy, Crowley would let him tell her about his day. He introduced her to his friends. She watched him grow up into a teenager, and he was never fazed that she didn’t grow older.

He bought her a gift when she took over the midwifing business from her retiring master. They could have been considered friends, but that would have been dangerous for both parties.

When he left the city, Yeshua told Crowley he would see her around. Once again, he was right.

~

The next time he saw her, he was in a desert and he was hungry. A few other demons had already tried to tempt him, and each had left empty-handed. At this point, it was getting a bit repetitive. Yeshua fully expected to look up and see another rotting, black-eyed demon holding out a plate of rocks disguised as bread, but was happily surprised to see a familiar face.

“Crowley! You’re here to tempt me?”

Crowley gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I pulled the short stick this time. There’s a lot of demons betting on me failing, so help me out, will ya?”

Yeshua’s smile fell. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, I know. I was just joking,” She sighed and sat down near him. “I know you too well. You aren’t going to give up after you’ve already gotten this far.”

“But you still have to tempt me.”

“It’s my job,” Crowley croaked. They sat in silence, until Crowley hopped up again. “Follow me.”

“What? No! I’m not following yo-” Yeshua stopped when Crowley snapped her fingers and they were suddenly at the peak of a mountain. “Hey!”

Crowley shrugged. “You weren’t going to follow me,” She looked off the mountain. “Look at all of this. I’ve been on this planet for a couple thousand years, and I still don’t think I’ve been to see it all.

“You’ve lived your entire life in one pocket of the world- don’t you want to go out there and see more, do more? You have a lot of power and influence, Yeshua. And you’ve done amazing things with it. If you kept going you really could go far. Much further than what She has planned for you.”

Crowley hesitated before adding, “You can have it all if you come with me. If you worship Satan.”

Yeshua shook his head. “Take me back to the desert, Crowley.” With a snap, they were back where they had been a minute earlier. “I know you’re just doing your job, but I really want you to understand that I will never turn my back on the Almighty. I have faith that what I do is for the greater good, and I have no reason to doubt Her plan. It’s-”

“Ineffable?” Crowley grumbled.

“No, I was going to say frustrating. It’s frustrating sometimes to not know everything, but I’ve learned. I’ve gained experience and I will continue to do so, but right now I need to stay here and wait,” he explained. “I may not get to travel all the kingdoms of the world, but I have no doubt that you will.”

Crowley bit her lip. She looked away from the young man. “Don’t worry, you won’t be here for too much longer. I heard they’re sending some angels to your aid. Just one, really. He’s nice.”

“Alright. I’ll see you around, then.”

“I guess I will.” And with that, Crowley left.

~

Eventually, an angel did come. He was very nervous, and apologized profusely for not being allowed to come sooner.

He invited Yeshua to lunch.

The angel explained that he was stationed on Earth, and had been watching him from a distance for a while, to protect him. “So you must know Crowley,” Yeshua pointed out. The angel went paler than he already was.

“No, of course not. Don’t know any- wait, did you say Crowley?”

“...Yeah?” The angel relaxed.

“Oh, no I don’t know any Crowleys. Though, if you meet anyone named Crawley, I must warn you to stay away. They are a very wiley demon.”

“Ah,” Yeshua hummed. “Crowley’s a great woman. You’d get along well with her, I think.”

~

The last time they met was in Jerusalem, near a garden of all places.

They both knew what was going to happen and were in very different places about the whole ordeal. Yeshua had been walking to dinner with his disciples, and was near the back of the group. When he passed an alley, he was yanked in by a thin arm. Crowley gripped his shoulders tightly and looked at him with swimming yellow eyes.

“You can’t do this. You can’t.”

He looked back at Crowley with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “I can, and I am going to.”

“But- but there’s still so much for you to do! You don’t even have to worry about being caught- I can get you out of Jerusalem. I can-”

Yeshua stopped her. “I don’t want you to. I must die for humani-”

“To hell with them! You don’t deserve this! You never did!”

“It’s not about what I deserve, it’s about my duty.”

Crowley huffed and began to pace around. “You can do loads more help down here than you will ever do in Heaven. You’re so young, why does She want to cut her own son’s life so short?”

Yeshua sighed, looking at his disciples walking in the distance. “Look, you already tried to tempt me in the desert- tell Satan my answer is still no. I need to get back-”

“I’m not here on orders from Hell. I’m here because I was tempting some soldiers and overheard they’re here searching for you, and that one of your so-called friends is going to rat you out.”

“I know.”

“I know you know, that’ss why I’m trying to ssssave you!”

“Crowley. I don’t want you to. Allow me to do this.” Yeshua stared at Crowley, and she could do nothing but nod weakly.

“Hey!” Shouted one of the disciples. They had noticed Yeshua’s absence. “Is this woman bothering you?”

“No, everything’s fine. I was just leaving,” Yeshua began to leave.

Crowley stepped forward. “I’ll ss-see you around?”

Yeshua gave him a kind smile, and walked out of the alley.

She could have easily killed the soldiers coming to get him. She could have tempted Judas to change his mind. But then Hell would have asked questions. Then she would’ve thought up some reason or excuse like she always did. She didn’t do anything because Yeshua told her not to, and as much as she distrusted the Almighty, Crowley trusted him.

~

“What was it he said that got everyone so upset again?” Crowley asked, like she didn’t already know.

“Be kind to each other,” Aziraphale replied.

“Yeah. That’ll do it.”

The principality became lost in thought. “Crowley. He told me he knew someone named Crowley. Was that- was that you?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, what’d he say?”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. “He said you were a great woman.”

“Oh,” Crowley breathed. “Must’ve been someone else, then.”

Crowley didn’t stick around for three days. She left Golgotha behind, and decided to take up a post in the north. He cut his hair, changed his clothes. He didn’t even keep his job- people didn’t seem to like male midwives. The only thing he didn’t change was his name.


	3. Children's Crusade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale meet up for the Arrangement, and Crowley learns what Aziraphale's most recent task was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is based on a few slightly different stories of what happened in the children's crusade, not one specific account

Europe, 1212

Crowley had a certain set of rules he followed when it came to tempting. Nothing official, just a way to decide who and how he tempted. Of course, there were exceptions to his rules when he was ordered by head office for something specific, but if you looked closely at his field reports, one would find a pattern.

He chose souls that were already heading down the wrong path. Maybe it was because they were easy pickings, but something felt wrong about corrupting a truly good person. He probably wasn’t supposed to feel bad about it, but he did. No getting around that, so he stuck to already bad people and giving them a bit of a shove to send them the rest of the way to where they belonged.

Crowley was also a master of minor inconveniences. In the days before mobile phone networks, pennies, glue, and sidewalks, there were drinks to spill that got angry drunks into bar fights. There were chickens to steal to make nosy neighbors peeved. One of his new favorites was strange smells to make, which he had learned from Aziraphale of all people in the early days of something he was calling ‘The Arrangement’.

They had both been working on the British isles for some time, but Aziraphale had been sent off on another task. Crowley was supposed to meet up with him in France to divvy up their next assignments in a few weeks. Considering it was the thirteenth century, he should probably start making his way there soon, but not before one last bit of evildoing.

He had his eye on a preacher- a prideful, gluttonous, greedy man for all his piousness. He made the town he worked in miserable- Crowley had felt it from a mile away and had planned what he would do as he walked there.

When he arrived at the preacher’s house, he looked around for people before becoming a snake and slithering into the rafters. He could see underneath him the entire house, the preacher counting church donations to put in his pockets.

“Josssephh…” Crowley hissed. The preacher looked around in bewilderment, searching for the voice.

“W-Who’s there?” his voice shook.

Crowley crept closer to the man. “I ssspeak for the Almighty.”

“An angel? Y-you don’t sound like one,” 

Crowley made a conscious effort to avoid words with s’s. “No matter, I am the angel… Gabriel,” he chuckled to himself.

The priest's eyes went wide. “Oh my- Gabriel, whatever you have seen me doing- i-is just a misunderstanding! I wasn't stealing per-se. I was, uh,”

“No, you have done well! I am here to give you a mission!” Crowley bellowed. “You are to leave thisss town and travel to… Iceland!”

“Iceland?”

“Yess! Go there, and you will receive riches beyond your wildesst dreamss!” Crowley fell into his usual temptation speech.

“And what am I to do in Iceland?” The preacher asked. Crowley thought for a moment. He really needed to plan these things out more.

“No quesstionss!” he settled on. “Never quesstion the Almighty, or me, Gabriel!”

“Y-yes, of course. When should I-”

“Leave now, and hurry!” Crowley watched as the preacher haphazardly shoved his belongings together and hurried to leave. Later on, he would report to Hell that he had tempted a preacher to leave his post, and to Aziraphale that he had made an entire town less miserable.

~

When he made it to France, Crowley found Aziraphale in the usual way: overhearing some locals talk about the strange English man they had seen, and asking which direction he had gone. After following his trail of blessings and culinary adventures, Crowley found him in a small tavern in Paris. His face lit up as soon as he saw the halo of white curls.

He was thinking of a joke to start off their meeting with when he caught sight of the angel’s face. His mouth was a permanent grimace, he had heavy bags under his eyes, and tears were just waiting to spill over onto his cheeks. Crowley slowed his step, and sat gently next to Aziraphale. He ordered a drink before looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Job didn’t go well, I take it?”

Aziraphale choked out a laugh. “It went perfectly, actually. That’s the problem,” he said.

“Oh,” Crowley scrunched his eyebrows in. “Can I ask what it was?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Crowley watched with a pained expression as he tried to talk without letting his tears fall. In all of his years and meetings, he had never seen the angel like this. Crowley shivered to wonder what Heaven had made him do. Finally, Aziraphale landed on “Maybe later?”

Crowley nodded. “Do you want to hear what I did?” When Aziraphale looked worried, he added, “Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”

“There was this miserable town I found. Everyone there was unhappy because of this one man. He stole from the church, he yelled at the children, horrible man, really. I made him go to Iceland. Iceland, angel!” Crowley watched to see if Aziraphale would cheer up. He didn’t.

“I forget you can’t sense lo- that you sense negativity, my dear. I don’t think I could bear it.”

Crowley pressed his lips together and took a gulp of his drink. “You get used to it,” he mumbled.

A worker put a plate of food in front of Aziraphale, and his frown lessened slightly. Barely noticeable except to Crowley. For a while, their conversation lightened. Crowley debated with himself whether he should bring up what Aziraphale had been doing again, but put it off every time he seemed to cheer up a bit more with Crowley’s presence. They rarely spent any time together and never for this long, even with the Arrangement in place. It was like a break from the harsh reality of Earth, and even harsher reality of Hell.

There was a lull in their conversation. Not awkward, but quiet enough that Crowley overheard another patron say something about a crusade. “Crusade? They’re doing another one of those suicide missions?” He blinked. “Is that why you were sent here?”

The look back on Aziraphale’s face answered for him. “Two of them. First in Germany, then here. I had to convince so many of them. Performed miracles for the leaders. They thought I was Jesus Christ.”

Crowley shook his head. “He’d never want something like this,” he mumbled more to himself than the principality.

“Thousands of them went off. I don’t think they’ll even make it halfway,” Aziraphale sighed.

“They’ve done it plenty of times already. Those men are just off on another suicide mission from upstairs.”

Aziraphale shook his head vigorously. “Not men. Children.”

“What?” Crowley hadn’t heard him right. He couldn’t have.

“Thousands of ‘em. And I-” he was on the verge of tears again. “I convinced them to go.”

~

The next thing he knew, Crowley was on a horse riding south. He had only stayed at the tavern long enough to ask Aziraphale what direction the children were traveling. With a lot of demonic imagination, he made it to Marseilles in record time.

Unfortunately, record time was not nearly enough. When he arrived, the city was surrounded by encampments of children. Some young adults, others looked barely twelve. Crowley continued on until he reached the port where massive ships loomed around throngs of young travelers. They were all fighting for a spot on the next ship sailing out, and the workers on the ship seemed thrilled to have such competition.

Crowley could sense something was wrong. When he slithered through the crowd to get near the ship, he realized what it was. The boat itself was infused with fear. Pushed into it from waves and waves of people crammed inside not knowing where they were being brought.

This wasn’t a normal merchant ship. It was a slave trader ship.

Crowley hid behind some barrels before transforming into a snake again. As soon as he stuck his head out again, he could hear screams from the crowd. They parted to make way for Crowley as he slithered up the bridge to the ship. He hissed at the merchants whose devilish grins turned to fear, and some immediately fled the ship. Others gave Crowley some fun as he chased them off. After he had stalked the boat for any more people, he calmly slunk back onto land. The crowd was too dumbfounded to notice the large snake go behind the barrels again and turn into a man, who brushed himself off, and snapped his fingers to untie all of the ropes that held the ship in place. It floated off with nobody on board.

He spent the rest of the day deterring the would-be crusaders from getting onto the slave ships. He didn’t let himself think about all the ships that had gotten away when he hadn’t been there. At the end of the day, he returned to the children’s camps outside the city. Aziraphale had said there were thousands, but this looked more like hundreds. Crowley’s (definitely non-existent) heart sank further.

He sat and watched from a distance. He was near an apple tree, he noticed. Crowley leaned back to rest against it, and pulled off his black quartz sunglasses. For the first time in his life on Earth, but definitely not the last, he looked up to the Heavens.

“What do You think will come of this? Who am I kidding, You know everything, ineffable plan and all.

“They trust You to point them in the right direction, and you tell them- their children- to go take some land? In the name of Your son, too? Yeshua wouldn’t have wanted something like this. I know that. Maybe I’m wrong though. I didn’t think You would care enough about something like this to send an angel- Aziraphale of all of them- to send some children on a suicide mission. Aziraphale! He’s the only speck of good in Your lot, and You’re breaking his heart.

“He’s probably trying to convince himself that this was for the greater good or something- that they’ll get a ticket to Heaven from this,” Crowley watched some of the children laughing and playing in the grass despite their gloomy situation. “Is the small chance that they’ll get to Heaven really better than living the rest of their lives on Earth? The chance to grow up and make their own decisions? Is any of this worth it? Why-” He cut himself off as he realized he was nearly shouting at the starry night sky.

“I should stop asking questions. You never answered them before, and it never did me well in the past, did it? But I can’t really get any lower,” Crowley watched the lights from fires dim lower, and the chatter of talking quiet. When the group was all sleeping, he once more became a snake and snuck through the camp.

In each tent, he whispered the idea of leaving. He gave the children dreams of their families and homes. Even the most prepared adventurers found seeds of doubt to whether or not this was a good idea.

In the morning, the camps were packed up, and the children made their exodus from the city. It would be just as difficult a journey, but a watchful demon would keep them safe.

Later on, Crowley would report to Hell that he had tempted crusaders away from their holy duty, but Hastur would get the commendation for diverting them to slave traders. But for now, Crowley took the hand of a straggler and caught him up to his friends. He scared wild animals away from where the children rested, and he made sure they got back to their homes.

Crowley had stopped kidding himself a long time ago. He cared about humanity, and he didn’t want to see bad things happen to people who had done nothing wrong. These children still had the time and potential to be something good. Maybe not something he should be happy about, but definitely something that would make Aziraphale have some glimmer of hope for what they were doing. Whatever that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry Crowley! maybe the next century will be better?


	4. The Black Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley helps Aziraphale heal a plague victim when he's all out of miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so late! I went through a few different versions before I landed on this.

England, 1350

The cart creaked as it wobbled down the stony path, weighed down by mounds of hay and a figure in dark clothing. To the people of the village the cart had just arrived in, he looked like Death. But Death didn’t have fiery red hair or carry around bottles of wine. He hopped off the cart, tossing the farmer he had gotten a ride from a few coins, and sauntered into town.

It was the largest village in the area, and the only one in some state of functionality. Everywhere else was dead and dying, shops closed and the smell of death inescapable. This place wasn’t much different but life was still getting by here.

Crowley had originally come to this town for that reason, there was still something to do to keep his mind off of everything. But as he’d gotten closer, he had felt a familiar presence. He walked down the street in search of an inn to stay at.

He noticed a young girl dragging her feet and holding onto a wall. Other people on the street gave her a wide space and were ignoring her like it was a competition. She coughed into the rags of her clothes, and suddenly fell down into the mud. 

People continued to ignore her, but Crowley was at her side in an instant. A second later, so was another person in plague doctor’s clothing, but without the mask. Crowley didn’t have to look up to see who it was but he did anyway.

“Hey, angel. How’s this century treating you?”

Aziraphale stole a glance at the demon but returned to worrying over the girl. “Not very well. This plague had taken a good deal out of me.”

The girl's eyes fluttered, fighting off unconsciousness. “Are you really an angel?” she asked.

“N-”

“Yes, he is,” Crowley interrupted. His normally gruff voice was calm and soft. “Don’t worry, he’ll take care of you.”

Aziraphale looked offended but Crowley shrugged. “There’s no harm, she’ll barely remember any of this anyways.”

~

Crowley carried the girl as Aziraphale led him to where he was staying, a small cottage at the edge of the village. It had the eclectic hominess that found its way into wherever he stayed for a long time, with the added detail of dried herbs and glass vials of various liquids. Crowley set the girl down on a cot and looked around.

“Medicine? New hobby?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale went searching for a rag, before miracling one into his hand. “It’s fascinating, but I picked it up more out of necessity.”

“What? Healing with a snap too boring for you?” Crowley tried to joke, but sobered his expression when he saw the angel’s worried face.

“W-well, just so you don’t get any ideas, it wasn’t my lot who did any of this.”

“I wouldn’t put it above them,” Crowley grumbled.

“Crowley, listen. I know we- you’ve disagreed with some of their decisions in the past, but they dislike this as much as we do. A lot of people are losing their faith. Can't blame them, but I tried my best to help. I healed all I could, but I got reprimanded for helping those who, as Gabriel put it, ‘were not worth the trouble’,” Aziraphale scoffed. “I’ve been learning medicine from humans, and it doesn’t help much, but it’s all that I can do.”

Crowley paused. “I know it wasn’t my lot either. My guess is Pestilence is behind this,” Crowley said. Aziraphale nodded in agreement, still worrying over the girl. “I think he and Gabriel are my least favorite people in the universe. Even more than Hastur, but I bet they’d all get along swimmingly.”

Crowley successfully got a small smile out of Aziraphale, but it was cut short by the girl going into a coughing fit, then falling limp.

Aziraphale rushed to a book on his desk, flipping through the pages and pulling some vials from a shelf. He tried to pour them in the girl’s mouth but still, nothing happened. “No, no, come on, dear girl,” he whispered. “Stay with us, it’s not your time…”

Crowley could see nothing was happening with basic human medicine. He wondered how many people Aziraphale had tried to help without the ability to miraculously heal them.

Crowley quickly pushed Aziraphale out of the way and put his hands on the girl’s forehead and chest, then gently pulled them back. As he did, her pale face regained some color, but she remained unconscious.

Aziraphale watched in stunned silence. What was he thinking? Crowley could get in as much trouble as he had, maybe even worse. Did he have an ulterior motive to make this girl evil? No, Aziraphale knew him better than that. He knew he had saved countless children in the few times they’d seen each other. Maybe he should thank him, or ask if he was even allowed to do something like heal the sick. Aziraphale wanted to say a lot of things. What he ended up saying was, “I didn’t know demons could heal.”

Crowley shrugged. “Same stock I suppose.”

When Aziraphale didn’t reply, he added, “Don’t worry, angel. Hell doesn’t scrutinize nearly as much as Heaven. As long as I’ve been up to enough evil, they don’t care.”

Aziraphale eyed him, but relented and returned to watching the girl. The pustules on her skin were gone, as were the bags under her eyes. “She’s just resting now,” He said as he packed up his medical supplies. He didn’t stand up, though. “Maybe we should stay until she wakes, though.” Crowley simply nodded.

They sat leaned against one wall while the girl rested. Aziraphale, really, was also resting. Celestial beings didn’t really get tired, but Crowley knew he’d been doing as many miracles as he was allowed, and straining himself. The last time he’d seen the angel like this was during that crusade. It was also the last time he had seen him at all, and he had stormed out without even a goodbye.

“Listen… about the last time we saw each other. The crusade-”

“Please don’t remind me of that. I can’t bear to think about it. About what I did,” Aziraphale interrupted.

“That’s what I mean. Look, you shouldn’t feel bad, angel. You were just doing your job.”

“I know, but it’s hard to believe that, when I had to do it,” he shuddered.

“It wasn’t you who made the decision. It was Heaven. Those bastards,” Crowley clenched his teeth.

“That’s part of it,” Aziraphale sighed. “I shouldn’t feel so horrible about carrying out heavenly orders. I’m a- a bad angel.”

Crowley stared at him, even pulled off his sunglasses so Aziraphale could have the whole effect. “Bad angel? You’re healing the sick, you’ve helped humanity be good for thousands of years, Hell, you took Jesus Christ out for lunch one time!”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to argue, but a yawn came out instead. He looked confused, so Crowley stood up and snapped another bed into existence in the cottage. “Bed. Sleep,” He explained.

Reluctantly, the angel got into the bed, telling Crowley that he was just going to lay down but not sleep. He was snoring a few minutes later. Crowley sat next to the sleeping girl. Eventually, she stirred.

“What happened? Where am I?” She rubbed her eyes. Crowley put his sunglasses back on and handed her a glass of water.

“We found you collapsed on the street. My friend here saved your life. With his… medicine and all.”

The girl blinked. She looked at her arms in awe. “I’m not going to die?” Crowley shook his head and the girl beamed.

~

Aziraphale woke up to quiet chattering from the other end of the cottage. He kept his eyes closed and listened in (He wasn’t eavesdropping. Angels don’t eavesdrop. He was just happening to hear this as he slowly woke up).

“...heard of astrology, then?” Crowley was saying.

“Yeah, it’s got to do with the stars. It was invented by the ancient Greeks,” the girl was saying. Her voice was still weak, but she sounded happy.

“Ancient? It feels like yesterday I was chatting with Plato.”

The girl giggled. “You're funny.”

“Ah, maybe so. Anyways, do you know your star sign?”

“I dunno. It’s got to do with your birthday, right?” Crowley nodded. “I was born at the end of May. What’s that make me?”

“A Gemini. Apparently, Geminis are very clever and have a talent for mischief.”

“Oh, I don’t get into any trouble, sir. Breaking the rules is bad,” she said.

“Oh, not always. If the rules are unjust you should always do something about it.”

The girl thought, looking up at the ceiling. “So, if I thought it was unjust that I have to do all the chores and my brother gets to go hunting, I should stop doing my chores? I’d just get in trouble.”

“Hm, maybe you can ask to switch sometimes. You go hunting, your brother does the chores.”

“But he wouldn’t want to. Chores aren’t fun.”

“He doesn’t have to know that,” Crowley winked. Aziraphale decided he should get up before Crowley told her to start stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. He sat up and stretched, accidentally letting out another yawn. “Hey, angel. Up already?”

“Yes. I just needed to rest my eyes,” he mumbled.

Crowley turned back to the girl. “Are you feeling better? Can you get up?” She nodded, and he helped her out of the cot. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yeah,” She nodded. “I can get back on my own. Don’t know how I’ll explain that I’m not sick anymore… thank you,” She looked at Aziraphale. “For saving my life.”

“No, it wasn’t-” Crowley gave him a look. It looked like something between worry and embarrassment. “It was no problem at all. You should thank Crowley as well for at the very least helping me, though.”

She did, with a quick hug to follow it. Then she made her way home. Aziraphale looked back at Crowley. “Telling her to break the rules, really?” He chastised with a small smile on his face.

“Oh, had to balance it out somehow,” Crowley hummed. “Doing anything tonight?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I do, unfortunately,” Crowley hid his disappointment. “I just want to forget this whole century.”

“I hear alcohol does the trick. Making you forget things, I mean. I’ll be around if… for the Arrangement. Or anything else, I guess,” Crowley stumbled over his words. He didn’t wait for a reply and hurriedly left the cottage with his hands in his pockets. Aziraphale watched him leave without a word. He was still processing everything that had happened in the past few hours.

They didn’t see each other for the rest of the century. They both had a lot of work to do, and even with the Arrangement in place, their visits were not as frequent as they may have liked. Between assignments, if it was a clear night, Aziraphale would look at the stars. He didn’t know enough about astronomy to point out any constellations, but he loved the stories that humans had come up with for them nonetheless.

Crowley looked up at the stars, too. He had a lot of reasons to do so. But now whenever he did, he made sure to spot Gemini in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is taking longer than I thought it would- it will be finished in the next few days, thank you for waiting!


	5. Not the Antichrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nanny Ashtoreth heals Warlock because it's her job to protect him, even if he's not the antichrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments on this story! Your words mean a lot!
> 
> I moved into college this week, but I've settled in so the rest of this story will eventually get here (and hopefully more after that!)

London, 2016

The years before Armageddon was (supposed) to happen were consistent and stable. Crowley wasn’t one to stay one way or in one place for long but with the end of the world looming, she liked having some sense of routine.

She woke up in her flat at an ungodly hour and got dressed with a snap. She checked her hair in the mirror and glared at her plants before strutting out the door. She sped her Bentley to the bookshop where she would pick up Aziraphale. Some mornings she would have to get out of the car and pull him out of a book, others he was already in his costume with a thermos of coffee for her and hot chocolate for him. Today he was waiting outside with the drinks.

Then Crowley would speed over to the Dowling’s home in Regent’s Park and park nearby, and apply a powerful curse to keep people from noticing the car, or birds from getting within a mile of it. Aziraphale would make his way to the gardens, and Crowley would go to the main house. There were always other workers bustling around and preparing for breakfast (she noted they were only setting two plates) who politely smiled at her. She did not return it. Only when she made her way to Warlock’s bedroom would a smile creep onto her face.

He was always curled around whatever stuffed animal he had picked out the night before, strangling its neck just like his nanny had taught him. If Crowley was a few minutes early (which she always was), she would watch him sleep peacefully. She pushed the thoughts out of her head that wondered how could someone so small be destined to destroy the world?

All too soon it would be 7:00 A.M. and Crowley would gently wake Warlock up. He always smiled as soon as he cracked his eyes open to see Crowley, but the first thing he said was always the same, “Is daddy here for breakfast?”

“No, dear. He had to leave early this morning. Your mother is here, though.”

Warlock nodded and pulled himself out of bed. At breakfast, Crowley sat and listened to Warlock ramble on about a parable Brother Frances had told him. She nodded along and occasionally reminded him to actually eat some of his breakfast. Eventually, Mrs. Dowling came into the dining room already dressed up to go out somewhere.

“Hey, sweetie how’d you sleep?” she asked disinterestedly.

“Good,” Warlock shrugged. “Do you wanna hear what Brother Frances taught me in the garden yesterday?”

Mrs. Dowling had already pulled out her phone. She picked at her eggs with her other hand. “Uh sure. But make it quick. I gotta go to this charity brunch for skin cancer patients. It’s totally sad and all, but I hope they don’t actually bring any sick people there. It’d just bum everyone out ya know?” She looked at Crowley for an answer.

Crowley stared back. She never bothered replying to Mrs. Dowling, it just made her prattle on for another ten minutes.

“Right,” Mrs. Dowling huffed. “Just, put some extra sunscreen on Warlock if he goes out today, ‘kay?”

“Of course, Mrs. Dowling,” Crowley said. She tossed her fork aside and got up to leave. The mother went to kiss Warlock on the head, but realized she would ruin her lipstick and went with a quick head pat instead. Warlock poked at his food while he listened to his mother’s heels clicking out the door. “Finish your breakfast, dearie. Can’t rule the world on an empty stomach.”

When they went outside later that day, Crowley did put some extra sunscreen on Warlock. Even the antichrist can get sunburned, after all. She sets the boy out to find Aziraphale

Sitting on the porch steps with her head resting on the rails, Crowley nodded off. Technically, she should be keeping her eye on the antichrist at all times, but he was off with Aziraphale now. After three years of doing this, she trusted him. And she never got any sleep now with having to work a full day as a nanny and most of the night as a demon.

She slept lightly, though, and was still half-listening to the sounds of the garden. Birds chirping, Aziraphale’s shears clipping leaves, Warlock excitedly rambling about something. Eventually, the angel was telling Warlock something about not holding grudges… she noted that for later to tell him otherwise. Then there was a scream. Crowley sat up instantly.

She got up to go look for Warlock, but Aziraphale was already walking him over, wiping a tear off Warlock’s face with one hand, and holding the other. He led him up the steps to Crowley who knelt down and scanned for injuries. Aziraphale smiled to himself.

“Don’t worry, Ashtoreth. Just a scratch. The young master was helping me in the garden and scratched his knee on a rosebush,” he explained. Crowley noticed the injury on his knee and nodded. She put her hand on the wound to heal it but Aziraphale stopped her. “You can’t. Do it the human way.”

Crowley wanted to argue, but he was right. Warlock was old enough to be suspicious if his cut was magically healed. “Come inside and we’ll get this fixed up, Warlock.” She picked him up and rested him on her hip.

“Bye, Brother Francis,” Warlock said with a shaky voice.

Crowley set him on the kitchen table and found a first aid kit. She cleaned and bandaged the small cut while Warlock sniffed and wiped his sleeve across his nose. “Are you going to be alright, darling?” she asked worriedly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Can I go back outside now? I wanna finish Brother Frances’ story.” 

Crowley pursed her lips. She pressed a kiss on Warlock's knee, instantly healing the cut underneath the bandaid and stood up. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Crowley trailed behind Warlock and Aziraphale. They didn’t do much gardening, but Aziraphale had plenty of pests to introduce Warlock to and stories with morals of being good and kind.

Occasionally, usually Fridays, the nanny and gardener would review their work from the week. This was one such Friday.

“You really didn’t have to watch me like a hawk all afternoon. Or like a snake, I suppose,” Aziraphale said. They were at the bookshop and had started on a bottle of pinot after complaining about the nosy butler.

“I was just watching Warlock” Crowley mumbled into her wine glass, getting lipstick on the lip.

“You didn’t need to, I was there.”

Crowley ignored Aziraphale. “I should know how to do this. I screwed up.”

“First of all, you’re overreacting. Children hurt themselves all the time, and he forgot about it not ten minutes later. Second of all, he hurt himself on my watch. It’s my fault if anybody’s.”

“It wasn’t your fault, angel. It was mine,” Crowley sighed.

Aziraphale tried to look more directly at Crowley through her sunglasses. “This isn't just about a scratch. What is it?” he asked gently.

Crowley bit her lip. “Despite all of my experience over six thousand years, I can’t stop him from getting a bloody cut. If I can’t stop something as small as that, how can I protect him from something bigger?”

“Like what? He’s protected from being detected and all of Hell will defend him if need be.”

“Like the apocalypse,” Crowley hissed. “Do you really want to see Warlock destroy the world? Do you think he wants to with all he talks about plants and animals, and his friends, and you, and-” Crowley realized what she had said. “He really does talk about you quite a bit. I think you may be doing too good a job. Or I’m just doing a really bad one.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, processing all she had said. He polished off his glass before answering her. “He talks about you quite a bit. If not for the lessons you teach him, I might say you were an amazing nanny. It was my fault that he got hurt, because he was with me. But he can learn from that. I bet he’ll watch out for thorns next time he’s in the garden.

“And no, I don’t want to see him destroy the world. But I believe we’re making an impact. I have no doubts Warlock will not destroy the world. Even if he occasionally needs a band-aid.”

~

No dog, wrong boy. The apocalypse came and went. Crowley and Aziraphale moved on with their lives, which meant they barely changed at all. That was what they wanted after all.

The only difference came in their work. Crowley had been undoing some of his long-running schemes like twitter bots and untrustworthy bus schedules, but often left some of them running just because he enjoyed them. Aziraphale ran the bookshop as usual, and only performed miracles he felt were needed, along with the occasional temptation (he used the term ‘push in a better direction’) when he felt justified. This usually entailed tempting meter maids into giving parking tickets to people who were rude to him. With this change, they also agreed to overall cut down on celestial magic (Aziraphale’s magic tricks were still allowed but VERY frowned upon). Sure Heaven and Hell were leaving them alone, but they didn’t need any attention from frivolous miracles.

Crowley’s morning routine changed from going to the Dowling’s to going to Soho, and waking up much later in the day. Since it was a chilly fall afternoon, he carried two steaming coffee cups into the bookshop with him.

Soon after he set them down, Crowley’s phone began to buzz. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID.

“Mrs. Dowling? Never thought I’d hear from those Americans again,” he said. He thought about hanging up, but realized they would probably only call if it was about Warlock. He flipped the phone to his ear. “Lilith Ashtoreth, what do you want?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book to see the blood drain out of Crowley’s face. He sped out the door and Aziraphale could hear the Bentley start up and skid away moments later.

A lot of thoughts raced through his head as he sped to the hospital. Crowley hadn’t even known the Dowlings were back in London. He felt guilty about suddenly leaving his post as Warlock’s nanny, but Aziraphale had reminded him that they had no reason to be there anymore, and that the boy was too old for a nanny now anyways. 

Mrs. Dowling hadn’t said what was wrong with Warlock, just that he was sick and wanted to see him. Crowley didn’t want his imagination to make him worry more than he already was, so he focused on arriving as quickly as possible. As he walked to the hospital entrance he waved an arm down his corporation.

Ten minutes after Mrs. Dowling called, Nanny Ashtoreth walked into a sunny hospital room. She was not prepared to see Warlock dying. He wasn’t acting any different, tapping away at his phone with earbuds in his ears. But he looked different. He was frail, and instead of a mop of dark hair covering his ears, a beanie hid his head. To any other person he might just be sick, but Crowley was a demon. She knew he was going to die and it would be soon.

Warlock looked up and smiled. He sat up straighter in his bed before talking in a small voice. “Nanny, you came.”

Crowley carefully made her way to the seat next to the bed. When she didn’t say anything, warlock continued, “You look exactly the same. Haven’t aged a day.”

Warlock, on the other hand, had changed a lot. It felt like Armageddon had just failed for Crowley, but that was years ago. Warlock was almost a young man at this point. His features were still the same though- piercing eyes and a mischievous smile on a pale face. Paler than Crowley remembered. She continued to take in his appearance but realized Warlock was saying something else.

“Say something, Nanny. Please.”

Crowley sucked in sharply. “Why did you want me to come here?”

“Because,” Warlock adjusted to look more directly at her. “I missed you. I wanted to see you again and… and say goodbye.”

“No. You are not going to say goodbye. Not to me, not to anyone,” She stood up. “I’ll see you-”

“Nanny, please! Stay here,” Warlock pleaded.

Crowley was planning to return later that night to heal him in his sleep. But the look on his face convinced her staying a little longer now wouldn’t hurt. She sat back down. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t thinking.”

Warlock leaned back again, heaving a tired breath. “Let’s talk about something else. What are you doing now?”

They talked for hours, mostly Crowley telling Warlock an edited version of the past few years. He chuckled weakly at the jokes she attempted and rolled his eyes when she brought up embarrassing childhood memories. It was tense, but the more they talked the less it seemed like she had been out of Warlock's life for any time at all. Crowley was happy to see she hadn’t absolutely messed up his upbringing. Her lessons of being ruthless and powerful along with Aziraphale’s moral code had taught Warlock to do no harm but take no shit.

Eventually, a nurse came in and notified Crowley that visiting hours would end in five minutes. The conversation had lessened, Crowley running out of memories to bring up and Warlock growing more tired than he already was. She didn’t mind staying silent, she did it often enough in Aziraphale’s company. They were both satisfied to sit silently until Warlock spoke again.

“I’ve never seen your eyes, nanny.”

Crowley thought carefully about what to do. She really shouldn’t show him, because she was planning on healing him, and she only really let humans see her eyes if she knew they wouldn't be able to tell anyone else. Also, she just didn’t want to show him. It would change how he saw her.

But he wanted to see her, even if he hadn’t outright asked. And as she had been told many times by Aziraphale, Crowley always gave Warlock whatever he wanted. So she slowly pulled her sunglasses off. Crowley watched the ground for a bit before looking back at Warlock. He barely reacted, his eyes widening but quickly returning to normal. “That explains a lot,” he said.

The room was silent again until Warlock took a shaky breath and continued.

“I’m sorry I shoved all of this on you so quickly, but I needed you to know. Even though you were a really strange person, you cared about me so much. If I didn’t have someone like you to look out for me as fiercely as you did, I wouldn’t be the same. All the things you taught me about being ruthless and unstoppable were weirdly what I needed. Same with everything Brother Frances told me- oh, speaking of which, my mom wasn’t able to contact him, do you know where he is?”

“Yes, yes, I can tell him to come visit,” Crowley waved that topic away. “You really think I did well?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been doing this for centuries,” he shrugged.

The nurse returned. “Ma'am, visiting hours are over now.”

Crowley stood up. “I’ll see you soon, dear.”

Warlock reached a thin arm out. “Wait. If I don't get the chance to see you again…” he trailed off.

“Don’t say that,” She scolded, but bent down and wrapped him in a tight hug. “You are going to be alright. I’ll make sure of it”

~

“We agreed we would limit our magic- I don’t want Heaven or Hell even thinking about us, Aziraphale said purposefully. He sat on the couch in the bookshop’s back room while Crowley paced back and forth in front of him.

Crowley looked bewildered. “Are you even listening to yourself? This is Warlock we’re talking about!”

“Yes, I know. The boy we wrongfully raised thinking he was the antichrist”

“Exactly. The boy we raised!” Crowley growled.

“We can’t do anything about it, Crowley it’s-“. He thought carefully about his words “It’s out of our hands. It’s part of - part of a plan.”

Crowley fumed. He hissed incomprehensibly before shouting, “Shame on you!” He threw his sunglasses on the floor, but they didn’t dare shatter. “You didn’t even ssssee him.”

Aziraphale fidgeted, not knowing what to say. Crowley took the chance and spoke again. “He told me he wanted to see Brother Frances. What’s the harm in going to visit?”

“Oh, he did?” Aziraphale’s lip wobbled into a smile. “Well, maybe-”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” Crowley yanked the angel unceremoniously into the passenger seat of the Bentley and headed back to the Hospital.

It had only been a day since Crowley had last been there. As he led Aziraphale into Warlock's room, he noticed Mrs. Dowling talking with a doctor down the hall. He barely had to look to know whatever news it was wasn’t good. The two miracled on outfits recognizable to Warlock before quietly opening the door.

When they entered the room, Warlock was sleeping. The only way one could tell he was still alive was the beeping of the machines surrounding him. A soft, “Oh,” escaped Aziraphale’s lips and he was at the bedside in an instant.

Warlock opened his eyes and gave a weak smile first to Aziraphale, then Crowley behind him. “I’ll give you two a moment,” Crowley said before leaving the room again. He thought Aziraphale might want to talk to him alone That, and he couldn't stand seeing Warlock like that.

A few minutes later, Aziraphale stepped out of the room wiping his eyes dry with a handkerchief and sniffling quietly.

“If we both heal him partially it won’t use as much power,” he said. “And I can do without a few frivolous miracles for a while.”

Crowley smiled and adjusted his sunglasses to ensure Aziraphale couldn't see his watery eyes. “Sounds good to me.”

In a few hours, Warlock would wake to find his doctor baffled about his sudden turn for the better, and a new contact in his phone. In a few weeks, he would be released from the hospital and build up the courage to finally call the new number. Unfortunately, it went to voicemail, but Warlock knew what to do and he did it with style.


	6. The Antichrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a dilemma and finds himself going to the antichrist for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Thanks for reading and leaving amazing comments!

London, 2024

OK, I lied. He didn’t do it with style. It went more like this:

“Hey, Nanny Ash- or I guess Anthony Crowley? That’s what your voicemail said, and it sounds like you, and with everything wired happening- anyways.

I need to talk to you. To figure out who you are… and what I am to you. I’m out of the hospital now, totally cancer-free. So, please let me know if we can talk.

And I miss you.”

That’s the message Crowley heard as he stood above his answering machine too afraid to pick up.

After quickly spraying his plants he hopped in the Bentley. Muscle memory took him on a route to the bookshop, but he thought better of it and turned onto another road. Crowley found himself driving near Oxford, to Tadfield.

~

After Armageddon, a lot of things changed. The bookshop had new books added, the Bentley was restored, and a hideout in Hogback Woods had improvements.

Adam and the Them had liked it how it was before, but his addition of a waterproof roof, protection from aging, and a stash of snacks seemed reasonable. By now the small fortress was years old yet had changed little. Where the Them’s rival gang’s fortress was dilapidated and unused, theirs was unchanged except for the toys replaced by speakers and posters, and snack stashes that had turned into beer coolers.

They sat on their milk crates drinking and occasionally tossing their bottles into a garbage bag (they had met Pollution, and they weren't keen on helping them out), talking about whatever bubbled up to their minds.

“Hey,” Wensleydale sat up. He had abandoned his thick glasses for contacts a while ago, but was still growing into the spitting image of an accountant. “If Satan’s Adam’s dad-”

“He’s not my dad,” Adam said loudly. He had grown several inches taller, and leaned back as much as he could on a milk crate with Dog sitting obediently at his side.

“True, you changed that or whatever… but hear me out,” He replied.

If this had been a few years ago, before Armageddon, Adam probably wouldn’t have heard him out. Before he knew he was the antichrist Adam still had a lot of control and power he used unwittingly on everyone, including his friends. He was their leader, and they always listened to him. Now though, he was aware of it. He didn’t want to feel superior or above them. For their credit, the Them didn’t want to be led by someone anymore. They grew up quickly after Armageddon didn’t happen. Wensleydale raised an eyebrow at Adam until he nodded for him to continue.

“Satan created Adam, and God created Satan… God’s your Granddad,” Wensleydale concluded.

Brian laughed. “Oh, that’s wicked. And that would make Jesus like… your uncle!”

“A whole family of powerful men… typical,” Pepper rolled her eyes.

“Actually, God’s my Grandmum,” Adam said after a moment. Pepper did a fist pump. “And no, Satan’s still not my dad, but I think I'm cool with having an Uncle Jesus and Grandmum God.”

They continued discussing whether or not Jesus would be a ‘cool uncle’ into the evening. Their hideout was tucked away from the nearest road, but still close enough that cars could be heard occasionally whizzing past. When the Them’s conversation got around to God crocheting Adam sweaters a car drove by faster than usual. It was also blasting Queen. Adam stood up and waved to his friends.

“I think I have to go,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

The Them looked at each other as he walked away with Dog at his heels. “That was vague,” Pepper commented.

“I think it was that car… sort of reminded me of the one at the airbase. I think it’s antichrist stuff,” Wensleydale thought out loud.

“Yeah, think so,” Brian agreed. “He always gets vague when it’s antichrist stuff.”

~

Adam walked down the side of the road back to his house. He didn’t see the Bentley there, surprising considering how fast it had been driving. Eventually, headlights shone behind Adam and he turned to see the antique car pulling to a stop next to him. Despite the fact that it had a hand-crank window, the glass lowered itself and Crowley poked his head out.

“Would you happen to know where Adam Young li- oh, it’s you. Just who I was looking for.”

“Hi,” Adam started. He pulled a hand from his pocket and pointed down the road. “I live over there. What did you want to talk about?”

“I- How’d you know?” Crowley scrunched his eyebrows behind his dark sunglasses.

He shrugged. “Antichrist senses, I guess.”

“Oh, of course you have that. Come on, I’ll give you a lift the rest of the way.”

~

Once the two were seated on the stoop of 4 Hogback Lane (Adam didn’t want to have to introduce his parents to the demon), they got straight to the point.

“Did we- did I screw you up?” Crowley asked. “Or your friends who killed the Horsepeople?”

“I wouldn’t say killed, they still exist,” Adam mumbled. Crowley eyed him to answer the question. “I don’t think so. I feel like we turned out fine. Why do you ask?”

Crowley didn’t seem very relieved, but he wasn’t unhappy either, as far as Adam could tell. “Uh, no reason. Just thought I should check to see how the antichrist was getting along,” he mumbled.

Adam watched the demon closely. He chewed on his lower lip, and although he could barely see through his tinted sunglasses, Adam could tell his eyes were staring at nothing, deep in thought. Adam didn’t know much about him; the group of people that day at the airbase hadn’t much tried to keep in touch except for Anathema. He knew he was a demon, and not an ordinary one at that. He also knew the man was very close to the angel.

“Is something wrong? Like with that angel or something?” He tried.

“What, Aziraphale? No, he’s fine,” Crowley sighed. “Wait you don’t know my name either, do you?”

Adam shook his head.

“I’m, uh, Crowley. Anthony J. Crowley. This doesn’t concern Aziraphale. Well, actually, it does. I just didn’t want to- well, I know what he’d say, he’d just say I shouldn’t. But I don’t know what I want to do,” he rambled.

“About what?”

Crowley thought carefully about his words. “For eleven years, we thought another boy was the Antichrist. Got you switched up. Aziraphale and I tried to raise him to be neutral like, well, how you turned out. We did a pretty bad job though. He- well, we got back in touch recently, and he wants to stay in touch. I don’t know if I should. I cocked up the Apocalypse, who’s to say I wouldn’t hurt him?”

Crowley turned to Adam, who didn’t say anything. He knew the demon had more to say.

“I guess if you and your friends are still fine after everything… he might be okay, too. But it might just be safer to stay out of his life. I always tried to protect him. From scrapes and bruises to having to bring about the destruction of the Earth.”

Adam looked back to Hogback woods. “After Armageddon, maybe a week, Pepper had a nightmare. She told me about it, and I felt horrible that I had dragged her into something that had scared her so much. So, I asked her if she wanted me to erase her memory of it. She said no. She wouldn’t have given up that experience for anything, even if it had scared her. And later, when I had nightmares about it, or Brian and Wensley needed to talk about it, we were there for each other.”

When Crowley didn’t say anything, he explained, “You should be there for each other, that’s what I think. I bet he needs you, and you need him.”

Crowley sighed. “So you raised him?” Adam asked.

“What? Uh, yeah. I was disguised as his nanny. I was his nanny,” Crowley confessed. “Aziraphale was there, too, to be a Heavenly influence on him. He was the gardener… at least he tried to be. I ended up having to put those rose bushes in line on a few occasions.” He grinned at the fond memories.

Adam smiled, baffled by how quickly Crowley’s mood had changed as he talked about being a nanny, or maybe it was when he mentioned the angel.

“Do you think you were a good nanny?”

The question caught Crowley off guard. “I did my job, gave him a hellish influence,” He said. “Dunno if that made me a good nanny, but I suppose I did everything I was supposed to.”

“Well, as long as you did the important stuff- like read bedtime stories and let him have extra dessert sometimes,”

Crowley scoffed. “Of course I did, I’m a demon, not an animal.”

Adam laughed at that. He imagined Crowley would have been a pretty great nanny to have for any kid. If things had gone according to plan and Adam was the son of an American ambassador, he certainly would have enjoyed it. And probably missed his old nanny, too.

“It’s not up to me, but I think you should. You don’t even have to tell him about all the demony stuff. Just be his old nanny.”

“Can’t,” Crowley shook his head. “I already showed him my bloody eyes. I guess I could wipe his memory… but no. He deserves to know everything.”

“So do it,” Adam said simply.

“But Aziraphale wouldn’t want me to,” Crowley argued.

“Why’s his opinion matter?”

Crowley looked at him like he had sprung another head. “Because I- it- it just does. He raised Warlock too.”

“Warlock? His name’s Warlock? Thank God that wasn’t me, er… probably shouldn’t say Her name,” He bit his lip. “Even if Aziraphale doesn’t want to see him again doesn’t mean you can't either. Besides, you haven’t even asked him.”

Crowley didn’t reply but acknowledged him with a quick nod. He took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes, shoving them back on before Adam could get a good look at them or the bags underneath. By now, the evening had turned into night, and the only light came from the distant street lamps and a couple stars that were determined enough to get through the light pollution. That’s where Crowley seemed to be looking now.

“I was always so worried about protecting him... but then when the apocalypse was right around the corner and it didn’t seem like there were any other options. I suggested Aziraphale kill him. I would never have been able to do it myself but I might as well have if I gave him the idea in the first place.

“Now that there’s a new lease on life on Earth there’s an option for me to do something I never could have done in the past, but on the other hand, I feel… I feel guilty for what I did to him. And it would have been much worse if I was at all competent.”

“I don’t think any of us would be here if you were,” Adam assured him. “Maybe you aren’t a very good demon-”

“Hey,”

“-but I bet you were a brilliant nanny. Besides, you can’t apologize to someone if you don’t go and talk to them. And I don’t know if this is antichrist senses talking or just common sense, but you also need to talk to the angel guy about something important.”

“About Warlock? Yeah I was going to, eventually.”

Adam gave Crowley a bored expression until the demon’s face was splotched red. “Yeah, alright. I just didn’t want to go too fast for him.”

A demon and the antichrist looked at the stars above the small village until the antichrist yawned. The terrier at his feet was already fast asleep.

“Need any more advice?”

Crowley stood up and stretched his long legs. “No, just that. You’re pretty easy to talk to, though,” He snapped his fingers and Adam’s phone lit up as a new contact added itself to his phone. “I bet it’s a christ-antichrist thing. Just don’t go telling my angel about this.”

“Sure thing. I think I want to meet Warlock too, if you decide it’s okay, I mean,” Adam mumbled sleepily.

Crowley chuckled. “I think you two would get along. And cause a lot of trouble.”

As he walked down the path to the gate outside Adam’s house, the young boy waved. “I’ll see you around, I think.”

Crowley slowed to a stop and turned back to Adam. He didn’t much look like his infernal father, but there was a familiar inquisitive look on his face that sent Crowley back millennia. “I guess I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you for all the kudos and comments! They were very apreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought so far!
> 
> I'll try and update every other day or every few days- thanks for your patience!


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